


The Ass Man

by LozaMoza



Series: Moments [24]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Consequences, Curses, F/M, Fluff, Humor, One Shot, Smut, Some angst, and Dandelion is an idiot, because Geralt and Yennefer, but Yennefer is never wrong, otp, yoU KNEW IT WAS COMING
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:07:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26763331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LozaMoza/pseuds/LozaMoza
Summary: Dandelion just HAD to sing that damn song one more time. He just had to....Even after the warning Yennefer gave him the last time. But some bards never learn until the truth is braying them in the face.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Moments [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1806943
Comments: 56
Kudos: 78





	1. Curses

**Author's Note:**

> There will be one more chapter of this little story! Hope you enjoy the ridiculousness.

He sat in the back of the inn, nursing his ale, and sighed heavily. The contract had been lucrative, and for the first time this season he had enough coin in his pocket to rent a decent room and get a decent meal. Dandelion had joined him for dinner that evening, having some business for the past few weeks in the city. By business, Geralt assumed it was another noblewoman he was bedding, though he didn’t feel the need to pry. 

But he was also sitting in the back of an inn in Vengerberg, and he fucking missed her so bad it physically hurt, and it was all he could do not to tear himself away from the table and make for her home - the home they had once shared - before he lit that domestic bliss on fire and salted the earth in his wake. 

“Cheer up, Geralt. The ale isn’t that bad. It’s not Novigrad, to be sure, but Vengerberg isn’t the worst of backwaters.” Dandelion took a sip of his drink, eyeing Geralt with a wary eye as the witcher carefully cut the chicken off the bone before him. “And why are you eating your chicken like that? You’re embarrassing me.”

Geralt, of course, knew why. _ Her.  _ Not that he was going to tell Dandelion that. “Novigrad is a filthy shithole, Dandelion.” 

“You hold your tongue, you uncultured oaf. I plan on owning a cabaret there one day, and I won’t have you insulting that fine city.”

“The last time I was in Novigrad, I saw a woman piss in the street, then proceed to open her legs, inform me it was a crown a ride, and if I was interested, get the fuck in line. And she had a line of men waiting there, Dandelion. An entire damn line.”

“Well, did you get in line? That’s a hell of a deal, and aren’t witchers immune to whatever pox lurks in those nethers?”

“You’re a disgusting git, you know that,” Geralt responded, then took a swig of ale. 

“Isn’t that a bit high and mighty of you, Geralt? You’re hardly one to flash your morality when it comes to sex. Exactly how many sorceresses have you bedded since Yennefer thundered into your life? Let’s see, there was Triss, Coral, her little assistant Moziak, then of course there’s the priestess Iola…”

Geralt’s face grew hard. He gripped the smooth clay of his ale mug and stared the bard down. “Shut up, Dandelion.”

“Touchy subject, I see. I swear, the longer you stay in Vengerberg, the more bitter and morose you become.”

“I said, SHUT UP, Dandelion.” Geralt drained his ale and rose to get another. He’d already decided that if he had to stay in Vengerberg the night, he wouldn’t suffer it sober. 

*******

When he sat back down, Dandelion smiled and grabbed his lute. “Music is a cure for all ails, Geralt, and I have the cure for yours.”

The witcher sat his mug down, concern ghosting his features. “Dandelion, I beg you, not that song. Not here.”

“Please, the people crave songs of love and romance.”

“Then play them a song of love and romance. Just not that song. Especially not here. Not in  _ this _ city, Dandelion.”

“I hardly think anyone would even know who the song is about.”

“Of COURSE they’ll know who the fucking song is about. How could they not?! She’s famous, Dandelion. And it’ll get back to her that you’re singing it here, and that I was here, and I don’t need that. So I’m asking you, as a friend, don’t be an ass.”

“Oh the irony. That’s the exact wording Yennefer used when she told me to never sing that damn song again just last week.”

Geralt felt his eye twitch slightly. “You saw Yennefer last week?”

“Yes,” Dandelion responded. 

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“It never came up naturally in the conversation. Plus, you’re strangely touchy about that witch, especially considering _ you _ left  _ her. _ Not that I blame you for a second, Geralt. Spending time with her is about as pleasant as a bout of the shits, and half as productive.”

Geralt scowled, and he had to repress a sudden urge to strangle the life out of his friend. “DON’T play that wretched song, you idiot.”

“We are all a slave to the muses, Geralt, and I am certainly not exempt from such servility.” With that, he made a sweeping bow and walked to the small stage. 

“Dandelion!” Geralt hissed, but it was lost in the roar of applause as the bard took his seat

“Hello, fine gentlemen and beautiful ladies!” Dandelion began. More clapping. “Tonight, in this fine establishment, we shall explore a love gained, a love lived, and a love lost. A man who thought he could never feel love was so moved by a woman who could never give love that he bound himself to her, forever more. This is that tale of woo. The Witcher and the Sorceress.”

_ Fuck. _

Dandelion began to sing the ballad, and Geralt hid his head inside his mug. The djinn, the wish, her wild torrent of raven-black curls, her eyes that blazed with cold blue fire when she was angry, but could be the warmest violet, like the upper crest of a summer sunset, when she was content, happy. He loved those eyes. He loved her. 

_ Why had he left her? Why had he done this to himself? _ Three years of misery, broken into tiny gaps of apathy with another, only to slide into misery again when the realization that they would never be her fully set in. 

“Yen…,” he whispered, and the name felt like it belonged there. 

He was so lost in thoughts of her, he didn’t notice the confusion around the stage. 

**HEE HAW!!!!**

_ What the hell? Who let a damn donkey in here? _ Geralt turned and looked around. People were beginning to point to the stage now. 

**HEE HAW! HEEEE HAWWWW!!!**

A woman screamed and fainted.

Geralt pushed his way to the front, and stopped short at the sight before him. There, dressed in the same silken foppery he always favored, was Dandelion. Except, instead of two human ears, two long donkey ears were jutted out of his skull, and from the back of his pants a tail. His hands, and most likely his feet, had been changed to hooves. Dandelion looked at Geralt, pathetic hopelessness in his eyes, and opened his mouth to speak, releasing an equally-pathetic bray. 

“You saw Yennefer last week?” Geralt sighed, shaking his head.

“Heehaw,” nodded Dandelion.

“And she told you you were an ass to sing that song?”

A moment of silence before Dandelion nodded again. “Heehaw…”

“Dammit, Dandelion. You idiotic, proud fool! You never bother to listen! You know what we have to do now, right?”

Desperation, followed by bleak resignation, filled the donkeybard’s eyes. “Heehaw,” he whispered, as quietly as a donkeyman  _ could  _ whisper, which wasn’t very quietly at all. 

“Let’s go. And I hate you for this, Dandelion. I fucking hate you.” Geralt started to walk out of the inn before an incessant and panicked bray pulled him back. Dandelion was jumping up and down, pointing to his lute. 

“Heeee HAWWWW!!!!”

“Dandelion, if you think for one minute I’m carrying that damn lute for you, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“HeeeeeeHawwwww!!!!” the donkeybard brayed.

Geralt grabbed the strap of the lute and flung it rather roughly across Dandelion’s back. Then he grabbed his bag and put it around Dandelion’s other shoulder. The bard’s new hoove-hands flayed wildly. 

“There, you’re a proper pack animal now.”

“Hee HAW!!!” Dandelion cried indignantly, but Geralt already turned aside and was making for the door. He had to hand it to Yennefer, it was a rather clever curse. He wondered if she would have imagined that Geralt would go to her to request she remove it from the hapless donkeybard, who at the moment was clomping behind him on unsteady legs. He allowed that small glimmer of hope to stay there as he made his way to the only home outside Kaer Morhen he had ever known. 


	2. The Real Ass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth hurts, doesn't it, Geralt?

**Geralt**

The road to her home was complicated, full of narrow streets and right and left turns up cobblestone paths, but he knew it so well he’d find it from anywhere. He’d walked this path in his dreams almost nightly since he left her.

The donkeyman behind him was having bigger problems, however. Dandelion’s shoes had proven impossible with his new hooves, so now his regular boots were crammed in his bag while the hapless bard tried to navigate the cobblestones with his new footwear. He was failing rather spectuarly. 

“I thought donkeys are supposed to be one of the Continent’s more sure-footed creatures,” Geralt called out behind him. He was met with a barrage of angry brays, which he was certain were curses. “Can’t you just walk on all fours or something?” Dandelion nearly hissed in response to that, so they continued on at a lumbering pace.

Perhaps it was better, though. At least it was giving him a moment to think about what to say to her, if she was even there in the first place.  _ How would she react to him? Would she refuse to even look at him?  _ For the upteenth time, he cursed his cowardice for leaving her. 

*******

It took an absurdly long time, but they finally made their way to the street that Yennefer lived on. The houses were large, the area pristine and well-kept, and flashes of happier moments with the sorceress came to the forefront of Geralt’s mind. There was the bench along the street that they had sat down together, watching the pink blossoms of the plum tree fall slowly to the ground. She’d leaned her head against his shoulder, sighing contentedly as the blossoms floated lazily to the grass, and he’d grabbed her hand tightly, wanting to convey everything he couldn’t say in that touch. 

There was the street Geralt had chased the carriage down when Yennefer had realized she’d left her favorite cloak in the back. He’d ran after that carriage - terrifying the poor driver at that - for two blocks before the driver finally stopped and Geralt had been able to retrieve the black velvet cloak. When he had come back, mud-splattered and grinning awkwardly as he handed the cloak to her, she’d laughed and pulled him into her for a deep kiss. 

And worst of all, there was the path he took when he had left her. It had been raining that early dawn, the weather and dismal and dreary as he had been. As he had been ever since.

“Hee Haw?” asked the donkeybard, and Geralt let out a pained sigh. 

“This is her street,” he whispered, and Dandelion stretched his long honey-colored ears. “There’s the house, but it’s dark. She may be out. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was.” Of course she wouldn’t be at home, waiting for him to one day call. Why would she be?

Dandelion began to awkwardly gallop to the home. “Dandelion! Dammit, give me a minute!” Geralt called out, but the donkeybard did not. He cantered to the door and raised his hoof to pound on the heavy oak. 

After a minute, he finally gave up and sank to the ground, his lips muttering a sad little whinny. Geralt sat next to him and leaned his back against the hardwood. Memories of him making love to her against that very door, their ardor so desperate they couldn’t even bother to make it to the bedroom, flashed across his mind’s eye. “There’s one other place we can check, Dandelion. One other place where she may be. And if she’s not there…”  _ If she’s not there, she’s with someone else. _ Geralt swallowed down the jealousy at that thought, red hot and biting. “Let’s go.” 

With one look back at the door, they both stood up. 

**Yennefer**

She had been working late that evening, later than usual at least. She knew it was nearly midnight, perhaps past, but she didn’t care. The spell was a complicated one, but it would also be lucrative if she was able to get it correct. Noblewomen were always desperate for her latest creams, even more so for one that helped erase wrinkles. The spell itself wasn’t the most difficult. Rather, it was getting the timing of it correct. She wanted to make sure it didn’t permanently erase wrinkles - what good would that be for repeat business - but required the customer to keep on using it to see lasting results. Getting that timing down was tedious, but essential. It was enough to keep her in the shop till well after the square had emptied. 

She heard the strange clatter of horse hooves from outside, and absentmindedly looked out. Her breath immediately caught and her hands began to shake.

There, escorting a creature that could only be that idiot bard he occasionally traveled with, was Geralt of Rivia. 

She hated that her heart started to race at the sight of him.

**Geralt**

“The light’s on. She’s there,” Geralt said, and he released a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. Same as before, Dandelion took off, a little more sure-footed this time as the donkeybard was becoming accustomed to his hooves. He reached the door to her shop and pounded on it. Geralt stayed back, too nervous to move. 

They heard the door click and open slowly, and there she was, resplendent as ever. She was wearing form-fitting black pants with a white blouse tucked into them. Her hair was piled on on the top of her head, showing off the thin column of her neck with her ever-present diamond choker. Though it was Dandelion in front of her, she stared directly at Geralt. He looked into her eyes for a moment before looking away. 

“HEE HAWWWW!!! HEE HEEE HAAWWWW!!!” screamed the donkeyman.

Yennefer waited a moment before pulling her eyes from Geralt to look at the flailing Dandelion in front of her. “I see,” she said with total calm, “that you decided to ignore my warning and instead sing that song once more?”

“HEEEE HAAAAWWWWWWWW!!!”

“And now the exterior reflects the creature within. You’re an ass, Dandelion, through and through. Honestly, you should be thanking me.”

Furious braying erupted from Dandelion. He stamped his hooves and pounded the cobblestones relentlessly. Yennefer simply smirked, folded her arms, and waited for the tantrum to subside. 

“Done?” she said after Dandelion finally quieted. He was pawing his hoove in the ground with a rather sheepish look on his face, which was thoroughly strange, coming from a donkeybard. 

He nodded. 

“Will you continue to sing that song?”

He shook his head. 

“Ever again, Dandelion. I never want to hear you singing that song about Ger…” She turned and looked at Geralt there, and he thought he could see her lip quiver. “The witcher and myself again. There is nothing there to sing about. Nothing at all. Do you understand, Dandelion?” She was looking at the donkeybard, but Geralt knew she was speaking to him. The pain in his chest nearly took his breath away.

Dandelion nodded.

Yennefer sniffed once, and turned as she wiped her eye.  _ Something must have gotten in it.  _ She whispered a spell, and immediately Dandelion changed from an ass man back into his regular self. Still an ass, but in human form at least.

“Praise Melitele!!” the bard screamed, and he began to dance a small jig at the excitement of getting his hands and feet back and voice back. 

“Never again, Dandelion, or I’ll turn you into something far worse than an ass. I hope I’ve made myself clear in this?” Yennefer stated.

Dandelion scowled at her. “Of all the vicious, vile witches....,” but he stopped as Yennefer raised her hand.

“Do go on, Bard. I've always been curious exactly how long a lake trout can last out of the water.”

Dandelion hissed and walked to Geralt. “Let’s go, Geralt, and leave this evil wench in our wake.” But Geralt stood there, still transfixed by her. She stared at the witcher for a moment longer, then shook her head, straightened her shoulders, and walked back in the shop, closing the door behind her. 

“What you ever saw in that wretched witch I’ll never understand. No amount of beauty can make up for that vileness.”

“Shut up, Dandelion.”

“Come now Geralt, let’s go and drink our cares away with some ladies far more giving than that beast,” Dandelion said, and he started to drape his arm around the witcher.

“No,” Geralt said, still staring at the door. 

“Geralt, you cannot possibly be serious that you are considering...HEEHAW!!!!” Dandelion brayed, and he cursed. “Damn that witch to hell!”

Geralt burst out laughing. “I wonder how long the after effects will be?” 

“Come on, Geralt, let’s just…,” but Geralt put his hand on Dandelion’s shoulders. 

“Dandelion, I made this mistake once before, and unlike you, I have no intention of remaining an ass, inside or out, any longer.”

“You two deserve each other! You’re both foolish and headstrong with shit appreciation for quality music!” he yelped. He continued, but Geralt was already walking towards the shop. 

Towards her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I lied, there will be one more chapter after all! Also, writing angsty sad Geralt with donkeybard Dandelion is just...weird!


	3. Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so Geralt did what he SHOULD have done in canon, been a grown up and apologized, rather than sulk in endless self-pity, and things work out far better.
> 
> Because duh....
> 
> Silly witcher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, say goodbye to canon here....

**Geralt**

He stood at the threshold of the door, trying to find the courage within himself to knock. He stood there for an embarrassingly long time before the door opened, surprising him. 

She stopped abruptly, her eyes widening at the sight of him. “Why are you still here?” she whispered. Her voice sounded strained. He saw her fingers grip the strap of her stachel. 

He didn’t say anything for a minute. “I needed to see you. To speak with you again,” he finally managed to eek out. 

“What is there to say? The idiot bard will be fine. I see your taste in travelling companions has yet to improve these few years. Now if you’ll excuse me…,” she reached for the handle to pull the door closed. 

“I don’t care about him. I’m not here for him.”

She stopped moving and stared at him. Her eyes hard, icy blue flames swirling within them. “Then why are you here?” 

Geralt’s heart was pounding. He didn’t know if he was a glutton for pain and punishment or just a fool for what he was about to do, but he did know one thing:

He didn’t care either way.

He just leaned in and kissed her.

He was expecting a slap, and angry hiss, sparks, or maybe she’d turn him into an ass too. He wasn’t expecting her to throw her arms around him in response, pulling him against her. He pulled back just slightly and whispered against her mouth. “I was an idiot and a damn fool. Forgive me.”

“How long did it take for you to realize that?” she whispered back. He chuckled softly against her mouth.

“I love you, Yen. I knew it in Rinde. I knew it in Vengerberg. I know it now.” He gently cupped her chin. “I love you, and I’m so fucking sorry.”

Her lips quaked just slightly before she pulled his mouth down to her again, stepping back into her shop. He followed her, refusing to break the kiss she had him in, and wrapped his arms tightly against her. He searched momentarily for somewhere to lay her, to make love to her like her like he had in a thousand wet dreams and spoiled bed linens since he left, but thoughts of long and lingering lovemaking sessions died away with the sound of her moan and the feel of her breasts pressed against him. “The table,” she whispered in a breathy voice. 

He picked her up, slamming the door behind her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Awkwardly, his hands full of sorceress and his mouth claiming hers as his own, he made his way to the table. Swiping a quick hand across the surface of it, bottles and potions were sent crashing to the ground.

“Dammit, Witcher. Do you have any idea how many hours of work you just destroyed?” Yennefer tsked. 

Geralt bent down to take her nipple, still covered in the smooth white silk blouse she was wearing, and pulled gently. She gasped in response, and he smirked. “I promise to make it up to you.”

She lifted his face till they were eye-level, and she stared directly at him. Her eyes had a violet warmth he so rarely saw, and it made his heart ache for her. “I’ll hold you to that,” she said, and Geralt knew she wasn’t talking about the broken potion bottles on the ground anymore. 

He took her chin in his hand and smiled. “I’ll hold myself to that, too,” he said, and he kissed her, trying his damndest to impart every ache he had for her in those three years, every moment he had cursed himself for his cowardice, every instant of regret...everything everything everything into that kiss. 

In that kiss, he gave a part of himself to her. It was the last part he’d been holding onto for himself - his uncertainty and fear - and he gave it to her, because with her in his arms, he didn’t need it anymore. And she, against all odds, accepted it.

“I love you, too, Geralt,” she sighed, and she gave herself to him completely as well.

“Yen,” he groaned, his voice thick with need for her, and she began pulling on his laces while he tried to undo the delicate mother-of-pearl buttons that held up her riding trousers. She laughed lightly against his neck as he cursed what seemed like an endless row of pearls trying to get her pants down, and finally whispered a spell that removed them completely. He took a deep breath, pulled her body close to his, and slipped into her slick heat.

Stars...stars everywhere at the feel of her around him, warm and welcoming. He stayed there, holding her tight, unwilling to let go lest it all be some dream that would find him alone in that sad little inn. She let him, till a frustrated noise told him to move, and so he did, making them both cry out. He tried to move slowly, tried to make it last, but it had been too long without her, and the closeness of her, her smell and taste, all of it had him calling out her name as she shuddered around him. And they held each other, not saying anything, just breathing in time together, for a long moment after. 

**Yennefer**

“5 hours and 30ish minutes.”

She looked at him quizzically. They were laying in her bed - their bed now? - him even agreeing to portal back to get there quicker to make love again on that wide and glorious mattress Geralt so enjoyed. Her head was resting on his chest, and he was smiling. She leaned up on her elbow to stare at him more closely. “Come again?

“I already did,” he laughed, and she scoffed and smacked him lightly. “5 hours and 30ish minutes. That’s how long it took after I left to realize I had made the worst mistake of my life. I remember being outside the city, coming up to that ruined manor. You know the one?” She did. “They had a sundial in it still, and assuming it was somewhat correct still, it was about 5 hours and 30ish minutes.”

She leaned her head back into him. “Why didn’t you come home?” she whispered.

“I was too ashamed. I hated myself for even leaving. How could I look at you again after that?” he responded quietly.

“So you stayed away for 3 years instead?”

Geralt sighed. “Yes,” he finally muttered out. “But I’m here now, Yen. I’m here, and I won’t leave again.” He pulled her mouth to his once more. 

She kissed him for a long while before pulling away, smiling. “I think I turned the wrong idiot into an ass,” she laughed.

It was his turn to scoff. “Like you would be able to handle that. I’d venture that you would rather miss my human parts.”

“Well I’d keep the most important things human,” she giggled, feeling his erection against her thigh. She took his finger in his mouth and sucked it softly. “But it might be rather interesting to see what sort of leverage those ears could give me…,” But Geralt flipped her around at that, kissing her back and up and down her spine, and anything else she might say was lost in quickening sighs and moans as they made love once more. 

**The Next Week**

He sat in that same inn, waiting for Dandelion to start his performance, Yennefer cuddled into his side. Dandelion huffed angrily at the pair.

“Oh little donkeybard, don’t be sad. I promise Geralt won’t forget you,” Yennefer laughed at Dandelion, and the bard hissed like a cat.

“I’ve been braying at random all week, you odious and evil woman, and often in the most inopportune of times!”

“Sometimes magic is a tricky thing,” she giggled, and Geralt kissed her neck. 

“Geralt, are you even paying attention?! Look at what your wench - HEEHAW - dammit and curses, Yennefer!! Make it stop!!” 

“Call me wench again, Bard.”

“Yen…,” Geralt sighed. 

She rolled her eyes and whispered a short spell. “Are you happy now? It would have been gone after another week anyway. It was just a little reminder.”

Dandelion snarled at her. “So am I to assume that I can sign without the damn braying interrupting my falsetto?”

“Yes, Bard, yes. Gods forbid we interrupt that.”

“She has a point, Dandelion.” Geralt said. “I mean how high-pitched can a man usually sing? Sometimes it almost seems like…”

“You hush your mouth, you lovesick cad,” Dandelion retorted back, and began to walk to the stage. 

“Oh Dandelion, just so you know, you can sing that song about the witcher and the sorceress now without fear of retribution.” She smiled at Geralt, touching her hand to his cheek. “It appears it no longer bothers me as it once did.” Geralt smiled back at her before pulling her in for a kiss.

Dandelion, in an exaggerated eye roll truly befitting a bard of his station and fame, huffed loudly and made his way to the stage. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's done! Thank you so much for sticking with this little fic! I hope you enjoyed :)

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so I know I don't write tv stuff, but in this I absolutely picture Jaskier from the TV show. Because, yes, I can totally see this happening. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading :) Comments and kudos are so appreciated.


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